This poem doesn’t need explanation, at least if you have visited Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Outside Japan you likely only know these names because of the atomic bomb. This single reductive moment does not define Nagasaki, nor Hiroshima.
Nagasaki is not the bomb, not a nullified future
No present, obliterated past.
Not mere shadowed imprint
Of fell fire falling in a flash
Not just the runner up in Hiroshima’s winning race,
Hiroshima, where one brilliant August day
The silver bird dropped Little Boy on children in their play.
A brilliant day just like the one when on the top of Mount Misen
In Miyajima, as high as birds, we looked down
On Hiroshima across the aching beauty of the bay
It must have looked like that, that other sunny day …
But in living Nagasaki, we didn’t find
A peace park at its heart
The city’s heart is by the water
By the bay, where Japan’s locked door was left ajar
Where sailing ships came laden to the Dejima
Carrying goods and things unknown.
Down by the bay, where in Meiji times
Glover settled and from him
Japan mastered ‘modern’ ways.
Down by the bay in Nagasaki
Where samurai exchanged swords for suits
And from the bay they travelled and the world embraced
And when they’d done, home again they came.
Image
Japanese translation of a book of anatomy. Dejima museum, Nagasaki.
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